Petite Mort
by FrostedFox816
Summary: Fred visits Angelus with conflicted emotions about the handsome man who saved her. Angelus uses this to his advantage. I would warn that it's dark, but its Angelus so I think that's a given.


He never expected it to be her.

She was nothing but a blip in the radar. 'One of the team.' She was always so ... _ordinary_. A little girl with a crush. It made it that much easier to hurt her, she took everything so personally.

So he never expected it to be Fred to come down the stairs, approach the bars, and reach her hand through. He had no idea what she was playing at. She was devastated, that much was clear as daylight, but she had another motive.

"Did ya miss me, sweetheart?" His tone was sweet, almost mocking. "Or was it just that everything up there got too ... confusing for you?" She flinched.

"I keep forgetting how well you can hear," she was being equally as sweet back, attempting to join in his game. "It always surprised me."

"There are a lot of things about me that might surprise you," her fingers slid across the bars, her breathing increased. "Did you come to tell me something, little girl?"

"I don't know."

"Well there's no surprise there, you don't know much of anything."

"Stop it."

"Make me," he smiled. "You came down here because you want me. You are at my command. If you want me to stop," his next movements were a blur. On oncoming blur that grabbed her hands and pinned them to the bars. "You have to make me."

She contemplated screaming, but then looked at the man who had her hands clutched in his own. It was the man who had saved her from Hell, how could he hurt her?

"You're naive, Winifred. It makes you so much fun to play with," he tugged at her hands quickly, her arm popped. Not dislocated, but the type of twist that would hurt in the morning. If she was alive. Her whimper only excited him. "You like that?"

"No."

"Don't lie to me, Winifred. I can smell it on you. You may be fooling them," his eyes lifted to the stairs. "But you'll never fool me."

He pulled her closer against the bars, in the same moment pressing his own body into hers. She blushed, he growled at the barrier. He lifted her hands above her head, pulling them through the bars. She turned her body to the side, he growled again into her hair.

"Let me out, bitch," she shook her head. "Alright, then come in here."

"You'll come out when I open it," she mumbled. "I can't trust you."

He laughed openly at this.

"You'd trust me with this," he ran his hand down her body. "But not with a promise that I won't leave? I've never told you I wouldn't destroy you, in fact, I've said the opposite on a few occasions."

"Get against the back wall," her voice was hoarse. He smiled.

"Make me?" She pushed against him, unafraid to be rough. He barely moved from the impact, but then made his way slowly to the back of the cage.

"Promise," she demanded. He put his hand over his heart.

"I vow not to push past you and escape from the cell, and if I do, I forfeit any opportunity to ravage you," Fred blushed again. "And I probably won't kill you this time," he added thoughtfully. "They would probably try to kill me back. Even Angel can't save me if I have your blood on my hands, though I could kill all of them so very quickly."

Fred frowned before unlocking the cell and stepping in quickly. She spun around to close the gate, but Angel was behind her in a second. She shrieked and he covered her mouth with his hand.

"No, no, no. Don't make a sound. They'll hear you," She twisted the latch, effectively locking herself inside the cage with a monster. He pushed her against the bars. "Oh Fred, Winifred, whatever. You're so...tiny," He ran his hand up her blouse. "Remember when you only wore rags; torn and short?" He tore her skirt with his free hand. "You were at my command then too. 'Handsome man saves me'," he mocked.

She could only moan as his fingers found places that ached for him, her knees buckled and she fell to the floor, half expecting him to catch her. Instead he pinned her hands to the ground and her body beneath his. The floor was cold and harsh, as was he.

* * *

><p>Upstairs, three pairs of eyes watched the monitor. Gunn fell back on the pouf, he couldn't watch for long. Wesley flinched at each moan, eventually turning away. Connor watched the entire time, a quiet rage filling his eyes.<p> 


End file.
